


Hashing It Out

by ros3bud009



Series: Wanna Be Missed [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Discussing Casual Sex, Drinking, Gen, M/M, Referencing Past Casual Sex, Sexy Prime Powers, Teasing, friends being friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: “Rodimus says you’re fun though.”--------------Ratchet and Drift chat about the aftermath.





	Hashing It Out

**Author's Note:**

> Oops that oneshot is accidentally becoming a series oops I can't stop writing about all these friends and fuck buddies and all the conversations inherent in navigating relationship oops oops
> 
> I don't know how long this series will be (though I have two more parts finished and working on a third) but I hope y'all enjoy it, haha.

“So, are they finally hashing it out?”

Ratchet glanced up as Drift slid into the booth with him, the smile on the Third’s face small but genuine. With a shrug, Ratchet lifted his drink to his lips for another sip as his optics flicked back over to where Ultra Magnus and Rodimus were sat across the bar. They were leaned in close to each other, though there was nothing intimate about it in the usual sense; it offered them the ability to speak quietly  in an otherwise boisterous bar, granting them privacy without any anxiety that might arise from being alone together.

It was nice to see Rodimus actually take Ratchet’s advice for once.

“Seems that way,” Ratchet said noncommittally before turning back to Drift. His new drinking companion nodded as he took a small sip of his drink, not looking the least bit confused about the circumstances. “Magnus talk to you about it?”

“Rodimus,” Drift corrected. Ratchet couldn’t help a huff of his vents as he tipped his drink towards Drift.

“So you’re talking again now, hm?”

“Yeah.” Drift’s smile was easy like the rest of his body language, relaxed in a way he hadn’t been for the last couple weeks. Ratchet yet again wondered how he had managed to miss the mess that had been brewing around their captain. The thought managed to distract him long enough that he missed the humor cross Drift’s expression as he continued, “He told me about the whole sexy Prime power thing.”

With an exasperated sigh as his optics lifted to the ceiling, Ratchet started to explain, “It’s not a ‘power’, it’s his—” before noticing the sparkle in Drift’s optics. He stopped dead in his tracks, realizing he was about to use the word ‘aura’ unironically around _Drift_ of all mechs, and Drift was waiting for it. After taking a moment to clear his vocalizer, Ratchet finally continued, “It’s the draw of his spark.”

Drift ex-vented a laugh, not even managing to sound the least bit upset about it as he said, “You’re no fun.”

“So I’ve heard,” Ratchet deadpanned, though he couldn’t help the curl of his lips.

The lull in conversation was comfortable as they enjoyed their drinks, and Ratchet’s optics strayed back to Rodimus and Ultra Magnus again. Where earlier Ultra Magnus’s body language screamed discomfort and shame, now it had eased, his plating not so tightly clamped when Rodimus patted his forearm reassuringly. That was good--

“Rodimus says you’re fun though.”

Ratchet blinked as he looked at Drift. The Third was trying to keep a straight face, but Ratchet could see that same sparkle of before. There was no doubt, in that moment, that they both knew what had happened in Rodimus’s office, and perhaps in great detail considering there was likely no limit to what Rodimus would have spilled to his friend.

But if Drift was looking to tease, he had picked the wrong mech. Two could play that game.

“You looking to verify it for yourself?” Ratchet asked as he shifted to lean back in the booth, one arm sprawled across the back of the seats as he let his thighs splay under the table. It was at once casual and inviting, and he saw the way that Drift’s optics brightened a shade.

“You asking?” Drift said in lieu of a straight forward response. He leaned forward over the table, one elbow resting on the surface, and oh. Ratchet couldn’t say he’d ever been in a situation where he had seen Drift give that _look_ , but it was a damned good one.

Ratchet let his optics trace the angles and curves of Drift’s frame. It was hardly a chore – Drift _was_ an attractive mech.

 However, ultimately he lifted his drink to his lips as he shrugged, replying, “I’ll let you know if I am.”

With that, the spell was broken, and Drift chuckled and even Ratchet huffed a laugh.

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point,” Drift relented as he eased back into his seat with a friendly smile. “I guess I just hadn’t realized you had it in you.”

“Didn’t take me as the casual frag type?” Ratchet asked, some disbelief coloring his tone. He was aware that anyone who knew him as a medic first likely wouldn’t, but Drift knew him better than that.

And Drift did wave his servo dismissively, replying, “No, it’s not that. That doesn’t surprise me much. It’s more…” His optics studied Ratchet, and the medic had to admit to himself that as much as he called bullshit on Drift’s mystic nonsense, it was times like this that he felt as if the mech was somehow drawing truths from him unbidden. “I hadn’t expected you to seek it out so readily when that’s not what you ultimately want.”

Ratchet paused in the middle of drinking from his cube, discomforted by the thud of his spark.

“And how do you figure that?” he asked evenly.

And, of all things, Drift smirked as he replied, “It’s your, oh, how did you word it? The ‘draw of your spark’?”

“Very funny,” Ratchet grumbled with a roll of his optics. Before Drift could get another word in about it though, Ratchet’s helm tipped towards where Rodimus sat with Ultra Magnus as he asked, “And what about you? What does your ‘aura’ say about what you want?”

Drift blinked as, slowly, the amusement slipped away. His optics softened when he looked over at the captain. “Rodimus is a very dear friend who I won’t interface with,” he stated. When his optics strayed from Rodimus, though, they met his drink instead of Ratchet’s gaze. “My spark has been through too many changes to really know much else yet, but I know that much.”

After a moment, Ratchet nodded as he reached out his servo out towards where Drift held his drink on the table, resting his digits on Drift’s wrist.

“Then I’m glad the two of you figured that out at least.”

Drift’s lips relaxed from the frown they had found themselves in as he nodded.

Ratchet squeezed his wrist before finally letting go.

“Though between you and Magnus over there turning him down, you bastards are leaving it up to me to keep that brat occupied.”

Drift’s face twisted as a cascade of snickers slipped from his grasp, bottom lip caught between his dentae as his frame shook with it.

Ratchet finished his drink as he let the comfort of comradery wash over him.

When Drift finally settled down, a sly grin spread across his face as he looked back up at Ratchet. He plucked Ratchet’s empty cube from his grasp to settle into his own empty cube. “You better be careful about that plan,” he warned sweetly as he shifted to leave his seat, empty cubes dangling from his digits.

“And why’s that?” Ratchet asked, watching Drift get to his pedes.

Drift’s optics held that damned sparkle.

“I think you’ll find that you and Rodimus have very similar ‘draws of the spark.’”

Ratchet tried to protest, but then Drift was gone, heading towards the bar with their empty cubes.

And his one means of escape was blocked as Rodimus appeared seemingly out of thin air, sliding into the spot next to Ratchet in the booth as if it had had his name on it. Ratchet could hardly protest when Rodimus’s smiled at him wide and bright, jokingly purring, “Well hello there, handsome. This spot taken?”

Ratchet’s optics found the ceiling again and Rodimus laughed, but the Prime didn’t move from the spot and when Ratchet realized his arm was still resting on the back on the seat behind Rodimus, he didn’t bother to remove it.

Having answered the call of his spark had eased the thundering desire for the Prime, but it didn’t keep it from still growing warmer when he was so close to Rodimus.

“I assume your talk went well?” Ratchet asked, glancing over to where Rodimus had been before and noting that Ultra Magnus was gone.

“Oh yeah. I mean, awkward as hell, but I don’t think Ultra Magnus knows how to talk about anything related to interfacing without being awkward,” Rodimus said with a shrug. “But yeah, now that he knows the _why_ of the situation and has thought it through, he feels better about it. I don’t think he’ll be hiding out from me anymore.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah. It’s a real relief. Did, uh.” Rodimus chuckled a little nervously as he glanced in Drift’s direction. The Third was talking to Swerve at the bar, and Ratchet thought to himself that it had better be because he was buying them both another round. “Did Drift tell you about our talk?”

“Just that it happened and went well,” Ratchet said, watching as Rodimus’s frame eased. A small smirk pulled at his lips and Ratchet couldn’t resist the call as he added, deadpan, “And that you told him all our dirty little secrets.”

Rodimus’s lips pursed as he elbowed Ratchet’s side, insisting, “He did not say that! I don’t go around kissing and telling!”

“It’s not good to lie to your crew, Rodimus,” Drift admonished as he slid back into his seat with a drink in each servo. Ratchet snickered as Rodimus bemoaned them tarnishing his name and Drift handed him one of the drinks.

Drift then looked at him curiously, glancing at the arm settled behind Rodimus and back.

And when Ratchet just shrugged minutely, Drift smiled knowingly before sipping at his drink, and those damned optics sparkled.


End file.
